


Because You’re Mine

by tangerinestars



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinestars/pseuds/tangerinestars
Summary: They have their gold medals, they have their weekends, but they don’t quite have each other.





	Because You’re Mine

 

A/N: I typically have a strict policy against shipping real people, (sans real couples, like-who doesn’t love Kristen Bell and Dax Shepherd?) and I definitely get squicky about writing fic about real people, but apparently these two break me. I blame you, E&B.

 

————-

 

 

It began with innocent excuses.

 

He had a meeting in her neighborhood. She found an old shirt of his with her clothes and thought he might want it back. He once noticed that she’d left a hair tie at his place and there was no excuse small enough to see her again.

 

They’d gone through it before- time apart- but this time felt much more serious. There wasn’t a plan this time. There wasn’t another Olympics coming up and so they made other ways to see each other.

 

They would text most days, but that was normal for them- they had to adjust to being apart, not sharing meals after practice or riding together to the gym or the rink. They’d even rented a home together, once. She stayed upstairs and he was downstairs near the kitchen. She would make coffee and he would make eggs, she would finish eating and heat up the car, he’d put his dishes in the sink and grab his jacket, joining her. They’d lived fully enmeshed lives.

 

Until they didn’t.

 

She settled in to post-skating life as best she could. It was real this time, not just a hiatus-they were done. She rented a small apartment in The Plateau. She got a few plants and put art on the walls. She caught up on her Netflix queue on Saturday mornings, and gave herself time to rest. She went to Barre classes. She lived her life, constantly feeling as though she’d forgotten him, when she was just learning how to be a solo act.

 

He settled in Lasalle and took a coaching job for a local junior hockey team. He’d skate in lazy loops around the rink when practice was done, just for the love of it. He missed her like a phantom limb, he missed the smell of her shampoo, her hand on his arm, pulling her close as they would spin... he could still feel her breathe as his hand rested on her stomach.

 

Their daily rhythms settled into months. Hockey games and dinners every few weeks became their new normal, discussing everything and mostly nothing. Still, they tried.

 

Separately, they both tried to acclimate to their new future, while knowing that the other were still missing. His friends began to tease him at bars after games- teasing him about his newfound bachelor life. He claimed to like it, but every night when he came home to an empty flat, he would think of her. He’d woken up one night after a rather vivid dream-they were at a square dance of all places, and she’d worn this pair of impossibly tight jeans... they’d spun and danced on the floor, and he’d pulled her close, kissing that freckle on her neck and sliding his hand just barley down the front of her jeans. She’d arch into him, whispering in his ear, and he woke up with a jolt.

 

August turned to September, with leaves changing, and October signaled the beginning of Hockey season. Scott’s schedule became increasingly hectic, until a visitor appeared at the rink one night, as his last athletes were packing up their skates, their mums wiping off their sweaty faces with promises of dinner at home- reminiscent of his own childhood. It was some of his only skating memory that didn’t involve her.

 

He looked up through the plexiglass dividers to see her there, wrapped in a jacket and scarf, sitting on the bench. Her hair was shorter than it had been in years, just past her shoulders and shiny. He could smell her shampoo and her perfume like a ghost, it hit him with years of memories. She was grinning at him, and stood, walking to the divide between the ice and seats.

 

“Care for some company?”

He swallowed hard, pulling his feet together and gesturing to the ice, gleaming under the industrial lights.

“The ice is yours.” She grinned, and reached for his hand like she’s done thousands upon thousands of times; removing the guards from her blades and stepping out to join him.

“I may be a bit rusty... you might have to remind me how to do this thing.” She glided forward, extending her leg behind her and reaching her fingertips to her sides, feeling like a bird stretching it’s wings.

 

“Well I have good news for you...” he skated alongside, sliding his hands around her waist, and she stood up, spinning into him, his arms intertwining around her.

“Yes?” Her face was inches from his.

“I am a very good teacher.” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing in deeply.

 

“I missed you, Virtch.” He mumbled into her neck, intoxicated by her smell, like apple and freesia, and his hand snaked up her back and rested on her neck. She laid her head against him and they stood there in the quiet, in their element.

 

“I miss you too, Scotty.”

“Then let’s do something about it.”

“I am not coming out of retirement again. We just got here.”

“No-“ he pulled away grabbed her hand, and they began dancing together like they’d always done, steps in sync, breaths in sync, heartbeats drumming alongside each other. “I want to see you. More.”

 

She grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips wordlessly, the same formation for their lifts. He picked her up, and she pulled her legs up, stretching them out wrapping them back around his legs. She placed them back on the ice, and glided forward, leaning back into him, feeling his sweatshirt and smelling his cologne, barely there, it’s memory sticking in her mind more than anything.

 

She missed the feeling of his hands on her, intertwined in hers, on her waist, her thighs- she could feel him everywhere.

 

He reached for her hands and pulled her around as if they were on a ballroom floor, taking the lead and stepping into one of their favorite routines from years ago, spinning her around and cradling her arms and they were truly themselves, together, for the first time in months, like they had been for 20 years.

 

“You’re not doing so bad!” He said, after a while, breaking their silence.

“I had an excellent teacher.” She skated backwards and jumped into a double axel, coming back around and stopping in front of him. He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and she smiled at him.

“What are we doing, Scotty?”

“We’re dancing.”

 

———-

***

 Tessa: Are you going to Andres Halloween party next week?

 Scott: I’d better be-it’s at my house!

Tessa: Somehow I missed that detail.

Scott: What are you wearing?

Tessa: Pajamas

Scott: haha what are you wearing to the party

Tessa: It’s a surprise. 

Tessa: Hey, I gotta run- conference call is starting. Xx

Scott: Later Virtch.

***

 

She smiled and locked her phone screen, placing it on the table in front of her and opening her computer.

 

Two hours later, she heard her bell ring, and went to the buzzer.

“Who is it?”

“I come bearing carbs. Let me in.” Scott hadn’t mentioned that he was coming by- nevertheless he was welcome to. Moments later the doorbell chimed and there was Scott Moir, grocery bag in hand, complete with a baguette.

 

“What are you doing here?” She helped him in and grabbed the groceries, brushing snow off of his shoulders and out of his hair. She took his jacket from him, he kissed her cheek and shrugged, opening her largely empty fridge and beginning to put things away.

“You sounded like you had a busy day, so I figured I’d make sure you ate something other than eggs and toast.”

“Hey! I... eat things.” She hopped up on her countertop and began to open the bottle of red wine he brought over, pouring it into two glasses.

He turned, standing between her knees, and reached up to the cabinet behind her, pinning her.

“Sure ya do.”

He grabbed a cutting board, briefly grabbed the top of her thigh and turned to begin to chop carrots, potatoes, onions and lemon.

 

“What’s for dinner?”

“You’ll see.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“So inquisitive tonight.”

She kicked her foot up towards him as he turned, grazing the back of his pants and he stopped, placed the knife down and grabbed her ankle, massaging her calf muscle and pushing up her yoga pants to knee. He looked directly at her as he did, and she sipped wine, trying to breathe steadily and not exactly succeeding. He maintained eye contact, let down her leg and took a sip of wine. He placed the glass next to her on the counter and grabbed her other foot which was tucked beneath her.

 

His thumbs kneaded into her calf, stretching her leg up, pulling down and wrapping his hands around her foot, and pushing the pads of his thumbs into her arch. She leaned back against the cabinets and put her wine down. He pulled her foot higher and barely kissed the inside of her ankle before letting it drop, and tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder.

 

He turned to pre-heat the oven and she sat there, stunned. He came back towards her, grabbed his wine glass, took a sip, winked at her and placed the glass back down, leaning over to grab a roasting pan from the drawer underneath the stove. She found herself staring at his shoulders as he moved and the way his arms flexed, wondering what she would have noticed before, had she looked at his arms and not been in them.

 

The snow was coming down pretty heavily, adding to the leftover ice from the day before, which covered tree branches and sidewalks. Wind whipped through the neighborhood, and whistled through alleyways.

 

He’d begun to prepare a chicken, slathering the skin in butter, tucking in sprigs of sage and thyme. He squeezed over lemons and cracked pepper over the bird, placing it on top of the vegetables he’d chopped and tossed in olive oil and herbs. He put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on his phone.

 

“C’mon.” He turned and leaned against the counter, letting her wrap her arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist, while somehow still carrying her wine glass. He moved her to the living room, and she slid down him, leaning her head against his back and holding her arms around his chest.

 

“What are we doing, Tess?”

“I’m holding you.”

 

She kissed his shoulder blades felt him move underneath his t-shirt. He moved towards the couch and pulled up a futon under his feet. She sat down and curled up into him, his arm coming to rest around her shoulders and her head fitting where it had always belonged. He looked down at her, and she stared back at him. His other hand reached to push her hair back from her face into it’s messy bun. His thumb grazed her cheekbones and fingertips glided down her jawline into her neck. She felt him move closer, feeling his breath and the faint, nearly gone smell of his wintergreen gum, which was so Scott.

 

Suddenly the lights flickered around them, and went off, bathing them in darkness. She noticed how quiet her apartment was without the electrical hum of appliances. She sat up, the moment broken and reached for her phone, looking to shed some light on the room. She found it on the table, the last messages received from him still open on the screen.

 

“Do you know where your electric panel is?” Scott had turned on the flashlight from his own phone and stood.

“No idea- perhaps in the hallway?”

“I’ll go check.”

She heard a metal panel open, - “Found it!” he called- and a few flips of switches. No luck.

He returned to the living room, and noticed candles had been lit, across the room, pillars and candlesticks on the dining table. The room was glowing and so was she.

 

“I’m gonna check on dinner.”

“Oh no! You put in all that work for nothing!”

“Tess, it’s a gas stove. You can still cook things.”

“Shows how much I use it.”

He laughed and brought over the baguette.

“It’ll still be about forty minutes, but everything seems to be progressing nicely.” He pointed the baguette her way, offering a piece. They sat down on the couch again, silent.

 

“My mum says hello. She asked how you were doing.”

“Your mum is the best. Give her my love.”

 

And they talked again, slipping into their worn rhythms like they’d done their whole lives, skating past the edge of something more, each wondering how to go there and if to go there and speaking about parents and jobs instead.

 

The chicken was delicious, and the wine was soon gone, and they sat on her living room rug, eating off the coffee table and leaning against the couch like they’d done many times, usually over pizza and a film.

 

“Can you stay?” He turned to look her in the eye, her face reflecting the flickering shadows of the candles around the room, hope in her eyes.

 

“Yes.”

 

***

 

The lights were back on in the morning, though Scott slept through it, gently snoring on the couch. Tessa looked at him as she prepared to leave for a meeting, and her breath caught in her throat- knowing how lucky she was to have found him.

 

————

 

She knew it would get him.

She saw past the dinner and the foot rubs and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she wanted him, and never wanted to let go again.

 

It’s why she bought the dress, just so he could take it off.

 

He was always on her mind these days, intoxicated by him, like she couldn’t breathe. The happiness she felt proved it all right again- and she would do whatever it takes to cross that line.

 

That afternoon, she’d done her hair, a reference photo printed and taped in her bathroom mirror. She pulled on gold sandals and her winter coat, hoping to catch a cab quickly and not back out of her plan. It wasn’t too late to change her outfit, but it was too late to change her mind.

 

She hadn’t spent much time at his apartment since he moved in. Their friend Andre had found the apartment first, sitting on the water with great access to the skating rink and some bars. André had booked a tour and was on the road for the next 8 months, so Scott moved in. He could walk to the rink, and it was nice to settle in somewhere. As she rang the doorbell, she heard music playing and a friendly vampire opened the door, beer in hand.

 

“Hey-o TESSA’S HERE!!” He shouted and she heard cheers from inside.

“Hi André!” She kissed his cheek, and he bared his false vampire teeth, pretending to drink her blood. The contact had sent chills down her already nervous spine, and she laughed, picking cotton floss spider webs from her coat sleeve.

“Is Scott here?”

“Oooh, yess, he went to get more iceeee.” André cackled and headed into the den, exchanging his empty beer bottle for another.

 

A figured dressed as a Slytherin Hogwarts studentcalled towards her over the music- “Put your jacket in Scott’s room, last door on the left!”

The heels of her sandals clicked down the wood floor of the hallway, and she almost didn’t want to take off her jacket, knowing that they’d see her and they’d know. Everyone knew, but they would know.

 

She turned the corner and stepped into his bedroom, noticing the sparkle of lights over the water through his picture windows. She sat on his bed in the darkness, pushing jackets aside, and began to unzip her parka, leaving it on the bed with the others. Then she wondered.

 

She pushed open his closet door, and found what she’d hoped she would... she pulled his cowboy boots out of the closet and shut the door, sitting on his bed again and taking off her gold sandals. She slid her feet into his boots, sizes too large, but warm leather and perfect. She walked a few steps in them and smoothed out her dress, fixing her hair, closing her eyes and taking a long steady breath.

 

He was out there, and she was about to go out there, too.

 

The lights switched on and he stood there in the doorway. “Tess, what are you doing in the-“

 

He froze. He knew.

 

There she was, standing in front of him, dressed like a fantasy, June Carter Cash. She was wearing his boots and nervously bit her lip as he looked her up and down, frozen in place.

 

“Hi Scotty.”

 

He wore his Maple Leafs jersey like he’d said, and she tried to think of anything in the world but him. His silence was deafening.

 

Having made up his mind, he walked into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot, no one noticing the slam over the music.

 

“What are you doing?” He stood there, leaning against the door, his face unreadable.

“I was going to come find you-“

“You know I’m not talking about that.” He shifted tugging a bit at his pants.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she looked at him, bunching up her dress and wiping them away.

“I love you. I don’t know much more than that, but I do, and I -“ she was cut off.

 

Scott crossed the floor and grabbed her face, kissing her with years of build up, pouring into a moment. Her tongue touched his, and he pulled her backwards, reaching down to cup her butt and pull her up towards him. Her arms went to his hair, his face, around his torso, everywhere she could touch him. He pulled apart from her and sat down on the bed; she straddled his lap and he began to kiss her neck, wrapping his fingers in her hair and pulling her head back.

 

They’d choreographed these moments feeling them as they happened, but never quite moved to practicing them off the rink, behind closed doors. She felt him under her, his jeans uncomfortably tight. She’d noticed him before, certain lifts or holds had brought them close and basically grinding. But she usually skated away and they never talked about it. She twisted her hips and rubbed up against him, the rough fabric hitting her in all the right places.

 

He was focused elsewhere, whispering into her skin and kissing each inch he had access to- “I love you I love you I love you-“ licking along her collarbone and grazing his teeth on her neck, sliding down the shoulder of her dress and kissing her there. Her hands were in his hair as she held him to her, holding on for dear life and promising the gods that she would never let go.

 

She captured his mouth again, kissing him like she’d wanted to so many times, her hands on either side of his face, his arms around her waist, sliding down and cupping her, pulling her closer to him still. He pulled away and looked at her, lipstick smeared on his face, and tears in his eyes.

 

“Marry me. Please, I cannot keep pretending- I love you and want to spend forev-“

 

She cut him off with her mouth and pushed him back on the mattress, reaching back to unzip her dress and unhook her bra. He looked up at her, love and adoration in his eyes, bucking his hips up with a dangerous grin.

 

“Of course.”

 

——-

 

Eight months later

 

“Are you ready?”

“Probably as ready as we’ll ever be.”

He played with the worn sleeve of their shirt- it had belonged to him once, but it was hers now... like so many other things, and he didn’t mind a bit.

“They are quite soft.” He commented, sliding his fingertips around the elastic waistband of their Ellen boxer-briefs underwear, again, likely meant for him but commandeered by her.

 

“Boxers or briefs? Boxers or briefs?” She spoke it aloud, teasing him.

 

“Whatever they are, they’re coming off.”

 

He lifted her shirt and kissed her flat stomach, up to her ribcage, ticking her and she giggled, rolling away, but grabbing her phone and settling back in to him.

 

“We promised.”

 

He groaned and reached for his phone, charging on the nightstand.

“Alright, Virtch, let’s do this.”

 

The both opened their mail apps.

 

“582.”

“612! I win!”

“Is having more emails than me actually winning?”

“I guess you have a point? Ooh, did you see the email from Kristen? It’s called Press Tour.”

Tessa sighed. “Ooh, let’s do Ellen.”

 

 

***

 

She looked at them from her chair, big eyes wide and a grin on her face. The audience cheered and finally quieted down, and she just laughed.

 

They joined in, looking at each other, her head resting on his shoulder, hand on top of his, which rested on her knee.

 

“So...” Ellen stretched her arms up and tucked her hands behind her head, and propping her feet up on the table in front of her. “Do you have something to share with the class?”

 

Tessa looked at Scott, and he stroked the stubble which had grown on his face, the result of the most relaxing trip of their partnership.

 

“We got married?”

 

The audience exploded into cheers and applause, deafening the room.

 

“Now is that a question or a fact?” Ellen replied, leaning forward. The two laughed and Tessa took the reigns.

 

“It’s a fact. We got together in late October, and married three weeks ago, in early June. And... we’re very happy.” She interlaced her fingers with his, pulling his hand to her lap, his other squeezing her shoulder.

 

“So when you said you weren’t together last time...”

 

“We weren’t! Honest, we were aware of the care and love that we had, but we were definitely not dating last March.”

 

Ellen raised her hands, awe and a slight look of disbelief on her face. “I mean, I still don’t believe you, but whatever you say. What was that process like? What shifted?”

 

Scott stepped in, ready to explain like they’d rehearsed, grateful to share the truth, albeit a sanitized version.

 

“It really started once we finished focusing on our skating career. I took up a position coaching hockey, looking for something a little different, and a world not thoroughly connected to Tessa. She pursued her business ventures, and we would get together every few weeks... I know I reached a point where every time we’d say goodbye, I’d miss having her around, and would do anything I could to see her again.”

 

She took over, choreographed like their lifts of the past- he did the footwork and she braced for the air.

 

“So we had a conversation one day, and fell into new rhythms. Took it slowly, and realized that we’ll never quite share the connection we have with anyone else.”

 

“And now,” Ellen replied, “You have a legitimate excuse to know what kind of underwear he prefers.”


End file.
